Puddlejumpers by Christopher Carlson Mark Jean Page A
Authors: Christopher Carlson Mark Jean
Tags: Ebook
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Runnel coached him on various techniques of jumping puddles, from the running leap to the skidding slide to the spiral plunge. That was just the beginning, as there were some Puddlejumpers who knew a hundred ways to jump a puddle.
Under their tutelage, Shawn made his first solo jump the next morning. Of course Greystone, Buck, and Cully were there to congratulate him. They wanted to put him on their shoulders, but knew they couldnât lift him.
That night Root and Runnel brought Shawn to the Well, where all the Puddlejumpers witnessed the gifting of his first Puddlejumper belt. When Greystone buckled it around his waist, the Jumpers hooted and blew their acorn whistles. After all the difficulties, Shawn had taken to life in the Kingdom as a Puddlejumper takes to water.
In the midst of the celebration, Greystone called for quiet. Everyone fell silent. If they kept absolutely still, they could hear the song of their MotherEarth rippling from the depths of the Deep Down.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Something Unspeakable
A T THE END OF SUMMER , the Puddlejumpers watched anxiously as large flocks of crows wreaked havoc on the wheat fields, despite the best efforts of the human beings to stop them. The big black birds were more aggressive and more brazen than ever before. Even the owls, their natural enemy, had disappeared, and Puddlejumpers feared the worst.
As autumn turned chilly, then cold, something unspeakable was whispered in the wind. Day after day, the sky hung low and flat. The air was bitter and lifeless. The trees lost their colors and their bare branches turned a deep black. The scouts reported that animals all across the plateau had retreated into their dens and the songbirds were nowhere to be found. The entire tribe was on high alert. At each hatchway, Jumpers kept watch morning, noon, and night.
When it finally happened, it was the dead of winter. Chop, now a full-fledged scout, was patrolling in deep snow on the north rim of the plateau when he caught the first telltale whiff. It was a putrid mixture of dead fish, hog puke, and skunk farts. Holding his breath against the stench, he pressed his trembling hand against his brow and peered toward the horizon. Could it be? He shuddered as the eight-foot beasts lumbered into view on the far ridge.
Troggs!
Even from a distance, Chop could see their bloodshot eyes, scaly faces with puss-filled warts, and coarse hair covering their misshapen bodies. They were so ugly that as he stared at them, his eyes started to burn. He splashed his face with water from the gourd on his belt to lessen the sting, then put his finger in the air and knew he was in trouble. The wind was out of the south and it wouldnât be long before they had his scent. Troggs had ten-foot-long tails with a big hairy nostril at the tip, enabling them to smell Puddlejumpers from a great distance. Suddenly the creatures lurched in his direction, their serpentine tails arched overhead, wet nostrils sniffing and snorting. He sprinted through the timber as fast as his legs would churn. He didnât look back, not once.
Although Chop could have jumped at several different puddle hatchways, he wanted to reach the waterfall at Red Moss Point. He dove through the freezing wall of water and disappeared down a whirlpool hidden in the rocks. A tunnel led to the convergence of the Seven Streams, where a large den served as the main scout headquarters.
Chop burst inside and, just as heâd hoped, found Buck and Cully. They were in the midst of planning where to locate emergency escape tunnels. Shivering, he uttered the word they hoped never to hear.
âTroggs!â
Before he could say another thing, Buck and Cully vaulted through a hatch to a secret stable, where a dozen scouts awaited orders. Dispatched to the Up Above, those Puddlejumpers rode sleek red foxes across the plateau to the far reaches of the Kingdom, alerting all to the terror. In the Underneath, swimmers were sent up the Seven Streams, and
Under their tutelage, Shawn made his first solo jump the next morning. Of course Greystone, Buck, and Cully were there to congratulate him. They wanted to put him on their shoulders, but knew they couldnât lift him.
That night Root and Runnel brought Shawn to the Well, where all the Puddlejumpers witnessed the gifting of his first Puddlejumper belt. When Greystone buckled it around his waist, the Jumpers hooted and blew their acorn whistles. After all the difficulties, Shawn had taken to life in the Kingdom as a Puddlejumper takes to water.
In the midst of the celebration, Greystone called for quiet. Everyone fell silent. If they kept absolutely still, they could hear the song of their MotherEarth rippling from the depths of the Deep Down.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Something Unspeakable
A T THE END OF SUMMER , the Puddlejumpers watched anxiously as large flocks of crows wreaked havoc on the wheat fields, despite the best efforts of the human beings to stop them. The big black birds were more aggressive and more brazen than ever before. Even the owls, their natural enemy, had disappeared, and Puddlejumpers feared the worst.
As autumn turned chilly, then cold, something unspeakable was whispered in the wind. Day after day, the sky hung low and flat. The air was bitter and lifeless. The trees lost their colors and their bare branches turned a deep black. The scouts reported that animals all across the plateau had retreated into their dens and the songbirds were nowhere to be found. The entire tribe was on high alert. At each hatchway, Jumpers kept watch morning, noon, and night.
When it finally happened, it was the dead of winter. Chop, now a full-fledged scout, was patrolling in deep snow on the north rim of the plateau when he caught the first telltale whiff. It was a putrid mixture of dead fish, hog puke, and skunk farts. Holding his breath against the stench, he pressed his trembling hand against his brow and peered toward the horizon. Could it be? He shuddered as the eight-foot beasts lumbered into view on the far ridge.
Troggs!
Even from a distance, Chop could see their bloodshot eyes, scaly faces with puss-filled warts, and coarse hair covering their misshapen bodies. They were so ugly that as he stared at them, his eyes started to burn. He splashed his face with water from the gourd on his belt to lessen the sting, then put his finger in the air and knew he was in trouble. The wind was out of the south and it wouldnât be long before they had his scent. Troggs had ten-foot-long tails with a big hairy nostril at the tip, enabling them to smell Puddlejumpers from a great distance. Suddenly the creatures lurched in his direction, their serpentine tails arched overhead, wet nostrils sniffing and snorting. He sprinted through the timber as fast as his legs would churn. He didnât look back, not once.
Although Chop could have jumped at several different puddle hatchways, he wanted to reach the waterfall at Red Moss Point. He dove through the freezing wall of water and disappeared down a whirlpool hidden in the rocks. A tunnel led to the convergence of the Seven Streams, where a large den served as the main scout headquarters.
Chop burst inside and, just as heâd hoped, found Buck and Cully. They were in the midst of planning where to locate emergency escape tunnels. Shivering, he uttered the word they hoped never to hear.
âTroggs!â
Before he could say another thing, Buck and Cully vaulted through a hatch to a secret stable, where a dozen scouts awaited orders. Dispatched to the Up Above, those Puddlejumpers rode sleek red foxes across the plateau to the far reaches of the Kingdom, alerting all to the terror. In the Underneath, swimmers were sent up the Seven Streams, and
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